


say so

by humanveil



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22241434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: You know better.Should.
Relationships: Anna Leonova/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 14
Kudos: 31
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	say so

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



Beautiful, she calls you: a passing mark in the hallway, almost a purr, accent thick and eyes on the way your body moves. You feel the heat of it long after it’s gone, pooled in your stomach and spreading beneath your skin, head to toe. You’d told yourself no, no. _No._ Had told Oksana, too. 

Tried to. 

Beautiful, she calls you: whispered against your skin, your neck, your mouth, eyes shut and breath hot, damp, teeth sharp. It draws blood, the bite. Paints your lip a darker shade. You gasp and she laughs, low, guttural, _pleased_ , and oh. Oh. 

_Oh._

* * *

You know you want to, she tells you: a predator eyeing prey. Ironic, you’ve always thought, the roles you take. That _she_ takes. She leans across your desk, suggestive: door shut, room empty. Another laugh, quiet. _Knowing._ Elbows against wood and chin in hand. Eyes wide. _Innocent_. 

Pretending to be. 

You know you want to, she tells you: eyes alight as if she’s looking into you, right through you, hand on your waist, beneath your coat, beneath your shirt, down, down, along the line of your trousers. _Beneath._ White hot, _burning_. She is obsessed, you think. You know better. 

_Should._

* * *

Can I stay, she asks you: posed in your kitchen doorway, dish in one hand and towel in the other. She’s smiling, sweet. Warm. Like a girl in love. Like a picture-perfect image of domesticity. Fake, you think.

 _Think_. It’s hard to tell.

Can I stay, she asks you: sated and vulnerable, laid out in your bed. _Your bed_. Naked beneath the sheets and hair a mess, your own body warm with the heat of hers. She looks at you; _like a girl in love_. You can hear the end of her question. Can I stay. _Forever._

You are doomed.


End file.
